


Eggs Can Be Almost Bliss, Just As Long As I Get My Kiss

by velvetjinx



Series: The Ketchup Chronicles [1]
Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Food, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, copious amounts of coffee, my first foray into comics fandom please be kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 06:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12811206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetjinx/pseuds/velvetjinx
Summary: A relaxed day in the life of the Hawkeyes, Clint and Kate.





	Eggs Can Be Almost Bliss, Just As Long As I Get My Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whatthefoucault](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthefoucault/gifts).



> This fic and the accompanying art is all down to the wonderful whatthefoucalt because she's great so it's all for her!
> 
> Title from "How D'Ya Like Your Eggs In The Morning" by Dean Martin.

Kate woke slowly, reaching over and finding the bedcovers cold beside her. She rolled her eyes and sighed, stretching her arms out in front of her. 

Wrapped in a fluffy purple bathrobe and matching slippers, she padded softly through to the kitchen where Clint was, predictably, nursing a cup of coffee. She smiled fondly at him, dropping a kiss on top of his messy hair as she passed. 

“You're up early again,” she observed softly, signing at him as she spoke, and Clint shrugged. 

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe you're up late?”

Kate grinned, pouring herself a cup of steaming coffee from the pot. She sniffed her coffee, savoring the scent of the it, before taking a careful sip. A little on the side of too hot, but still good. 

She sat next to Clint at the counter, hooking her leg around his. “What's on the agenda today?”

“Uh.” Clint looked thoughtful. “Grocery shopping. Stop for coffee. Come home. More coffee. Vacuum under the furniture before the dust bunnies become sentient and eat us in our sleep. Dinner and more coffee? Maybe some training in between there.”

“Sounds good.”

They sat in silence, sipping their coffees, and Kate couldn't help but smile. They knew each other well enough that words weren't always a necessity; their silences were comfortable now, rather than awkward. 

“You eaten?” she asked at length. 

Clint shook his head. “Not yet. This is only my third cup of coffee.”

“I might make us some eggs this morning. That work for you?”

“Mhm,” Clint hummed, pulling her in with one arm and kissing her on the temple. 

“Okay. As soon as I've finished this cup.” She laid her head on his shoulder for a few moments, comforted by his nearness. 

As she stood at the stove, scrambling the eggs, Clint wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, kissing her neck. “I'll make toast,” he said simply, before letting go and heading towards the toaster. Kate tried not to feel bereft of his warm presence at her back as she stirred the fluffy eggs, watching them cook. 

They ate their eggs and toast at the counter with more coffee. Kate shook enough salt on hers that any cardiologist would have cried; Clint, the weirdo, covered his in ketchup. The first time he had done that, Kate had looked at him in horror--now it was just another quirk of his that she loved. 

After showering and dressing, Kate strode through to the living room and lay sprawled on the sofa. Clint glanced over his book at her from his armchair. 

“Your wet hair is gonna ruin those cushions,” he said mildly, his attention already wandering back back to stories of ancient warriors. 

“Hasn't yet,” Kate replied cheekily, and Clint shot her an indulgent look. 

The thing was that yes, okay, there was a big age difference between them. 23 years was a long time to some people. But Kate was 26, fully capable of making her own life decisions--had been for a long time, which people seemed to forget. To go from mentor and student to what they were now had been an almost natural progression, though she knew that Clint sometimes wondered if he'd taken advantage. Kate had told him time and again that she was hardly the type to be taken advantage of, and at 24 had been more than mature enough to make that decision. 

People who made noise about him taking advantage of his position of authority with her made her laugh. He had been her mentor, true, but he'd never really had any authority over her. She was too independent and headstrong for that. 

As though he could sense her thoughts, Clint looked up at her again from his book. “Okay?” he asked, and Kate nodded. 

“You got a list of what we need at the grocery store?”

“Uh. Somewhere?”

Truth was, Clint Barton was a walking disaster. But he was _her_ walking disaster. His attention was back on his book, so she waved her hands to get him to look up again. 

“Do you remember any of it?” she asked, unable to help a fond smile at the way he looked between her lips and hands as she spoke and signed to him. 

“We should probably get more eggs?”

Kate couldn't help but laugh. “I'll go make a list.”

As she hunted through the cupboards to see what they needed, Clint sauntered into the kitchen, pushing his hearing aid into his ear as he went. 

“How are you getting on?” he asked, and Kate sighed. 

“I think I'm almost finished? Just one more cupboard to check.”

“We also need toilet paper and shampoo,” he reminded her. 

She scribbled both down on her list, and a minute or two later emerged from the final cupboard, writing “ketchup” on her list. “I don't know how you go through so much ketchup,” she said with a laugh, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her briefly. 

“Well, if you didn't make such amazing eggs…”

“You're still weird for eating them like that.”

“Eh, you love my weird habits,” he retorted comfortably. 

“Says you,” she responded with a grin. 

Grocery list safely in the pocket of her purple coat, they left the apartment, walking the short distance to the store hand in hand. They still occasionally got judgmental looks from people who seemed to think either he was a dirty old man or she was a gold digger, but she'd learned to ignore those looks. It wasn't like those people knew anything about her or Clint; what they'd been through, both separately and together. 

When they returned to the apartment, hands full of bags, Kate placed hers on the kitchen floor with a sigh. “I'll put things away in here; you can go tidy up the living room.”

“It's not tidy?”

Kate shot him a stern look. “Books belong on the bookcase, not in a pile next to your armchair.”

“But I'm reading them!” Clint whined. 

“You cannot be reading ten books at once. No, Clinton Francis Barton, put them away.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, but went to do as he was told. A few moments later, she heard the vacuum, and smiled. For all that he had a habit of hoarding books, he was a pretty tidy guy. Tidier than she had been when she moved in--they'd had a few rocky months when she'd first moved in before she’d actually knuckled down and started taking on her share of the chores. Now she took as much pride in a clean apartment as he did. 

By the time she had finished putting the groceries away, Clint had finished vacuuming and was back in the kitchen making coffee. As he paused behind her, cup in hand, she snagged the mug from him and turned back to the cupboard, taking a long sip. He pressed against her back, covering her hands around the mug with his and kissing her on the cheek. 

“You know, if you wanted some coffee I'd have made you one. You only have to ask, you don't have to steal mine,” he murmured. 

Smiling, Kate relinquished the mug back to him. “Nah, it's more fun to steal yours.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Why do I put up with this?”

“Because you love me,” Kate stated matter-of-factly. 

“I might not if you keep stealing my coffee,” he teased. 

Kate made a kissy face at him, and he covered her mouth with his hand, before smirking, leaning in and kissing the back of his hand. 

“What, I don't get a real one?” she asked, laughing, and he pulled his hand away, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her softly. 

“I'm gonna go tidy the bedroom,” he murmured against her lips. 

“Hmmm, ‘kay.”

Between the two of them they managed to clean the remainder of their apartment pretty quickly, before relaxing on the sofa together. The cold air from outside seemed to be seeping through the walls that day; in a few weeks it would be Christmas. Kate pulled the sleeves of her sweater over her hands, then picked up her mug of coffee, cupping it in her now warm hands. She leaned into Clint’s side, his solidness a welcoming comfort. 

People her age often asked her why she had chosen to start a relationship with a man so much older than her, and the truth was simple. She felt safe with Clint, in a way she didn't with most men. Given what had happened to her as a teenager she tended to be extra wary around men--older, younger, of an age with her, it didn't matter. But with Clint, all she felt was comfortable. She knew he'd have her back no matter what. That he would never hurt her, except in the small ways that people in relationships usually hurt each other through misunderstandings. Though she was fairly good at communicating, and Clint was improving, so even that wasn't much. 

As though he could hear her noisy brain, Clint kissed the top of Kate's head. “You okay?”

She nodded, resting her head on his shoulder. 

They ordered takeout that evening from their local pizza place, and sat, happily munching on the gooey, cheesey slices until they were both full. The good thing about takeout was minimal washing up, though Clint did have to make a trip to take out the recycling. 

It was one of their rare nights off patrolling the streets to catch bad guys, and Kate revelled in the ability to relax with the one man in the world who knew her well enough to make her happy. They watched a few episodes of Star Trek to round off the evening, and as the last one was ending, Kate yawned wide. 

“Tired?” Clint asked, and Kate nodded. 

“A little,” she said, her hands signing the words automatically even though she didn't think he'd taken his hearing aid out. 

“Time for bed?”

She nodded again, and he kissed her briefly. They brushed their teeth together, side by side at their twin sinks, and Kate laughed when Clint looked at her, eyes crossed and face covered in bubbly lather. 

She climbed into bed in her nightshirt with the kitten on the front, and Clint switched off the main light before clambering in beside her. 

Kate turned to Clint, tapping him on the arm to get his attention. “I was thinking maybe I would call Doreen tomorrow and invite her out for coffee? See how she's doing.”

Clint smiled. “Sounds great. God, I've not seen Doreen in months.”

“I hope she brings Tippy Toe. I love that little squirrel.”

Clint shook his head. “I don't think Tippy Toe likes me.”

“I'm sure he likes you fine. You just need to get to know each other better.” Kate yawned again, feeling her eyes getting heavy. “Anyway, time to sleep.” She kissed Clint gently, then turned over, switching off the lamp by the bed. She felt him snuggle in behind her, molding his body to hers, and smiled in the darkness. Being a crime fighting hero was all very well, but it was days like this she really cherished. As Clint's arm tightened slightly around her waist in sleep, she began to drift off, feeling safe and loved.


End file.
